


Magic Can't Solve Everything

by TheDaughterOfHades



Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: Chas deserves better, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I put them both thru shit, I'm Bad At Tagging, John Whump, John deserves better, John is a Mess, M/M, Nightmares, Sad John, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2020-12-31 20:57:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21152108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDaughterOfHades/pseuds/TheDaughterOfHades
Summary: Zed is content with spending the rest of her life with Jim Corrigan, but when John shows up at their doorstep in New Orleans injured and unwell, the old Hellblazer gang might be in for a few more unwelcome surprises. Major John Constantine whump, because why not?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jim was supporting a very injured Constantine. He was huffing in painful gasps as he held onto multiple bleeding wounds for dear life. He managed to glance up to stare at her. When he saw her terrified expression, he tried to go for a smile, which ended up being more of a grimace.
> 
> “Right luv, how are you? Don't mean to intrude, but can I stay here for the night?”

Zed knew that choosing to stay with Jim had been a good idea. He'd wake her up with a sweet peck on the cheek, and then he'd go downstairs to make breakfast for the two of them.

She really didn't deserve him.

He was so sweet, and pure. He always knew what she was thinking, when she needed space or when she wanted to talk. He never pressured her, and always let her go at her own pace.

When she made the decision to live with him, he even cleared up his guest room to give her an artist studio to work. She didn't think it was possible he could get any better.

So yes, she told herself, this _had _been the right choice.

Now all she had to do was make her conscience agree with her.

Nothing could stop her from feeling guilty. Maybe she could convince herself that this was best for her, but then the sad look John had given her the first time he witnessed her kissing Jim would always come to haunt her.

Maybe the look wasn't exactly sad. It was a mixture of regret, and _relief_. 

She knew John thought he poisoned anyone that came in contact with him. And because she never knew how many people John had actually lost, she couldn't allow herself to say she knew what he was going through.

She never really believed his bold claims about the people he'd killed.

Until she saw what happened to Gary Lester.

It wasn't John's fault. He never would have done it if there'd been a second option. But it opened her mind to the horrors John witnessed, the pain he'd endured.

And because John was afraid of putting the people he loved at risk, he pushed them away, hurting himself in the process. She knew from Chas that the first couple of weeks she hung around them, John was against her joining the team for that reason exactly.

So maybe that was why he hadn't called, or visited, or even said anything to her since he saw her kiss Jim. Because he _wanted _her to build a life for herself, far away from John Constantine.

If that was the case, she wanted to smack him just for _thinking_ about it.

Except she _couldn't _because he wouldn't even call to say hi.

So she went on, day by day, feeling safe and secure with Jim, while the heavy burden of guilt weighed her down. But it only took him a week to realize something was bothering her. And carefully, gently, he asked her, and everything became clear.

“So you're worried about him.” 

She threw her arms up in frustration. “Of course I'm worried about him! The last time I saw him was almost a month ago! I haven't heard from him since!”

She knew she was probably overreacting, but as usual when it came to John Constantine, you could never be too sure. Jim seemed to understand this, because he took her hand comfortingly.

“Do you have any idea why he hasn't called you lately?”

She sighed. “I don't know. Chas saw him a couple of times, and told me he was fine when I asked.”

A puzzled look appeared on Jim's face. It was adorable, and Zed was fighting off a smile. “If you know he's okay, why are you worried?”

“Because the last time I saw him, he looked really pissed.”

Even though the conversation wasn't making much sense, Jim was still patient with her. “Where, exactly, was the last place you saw him?”

This time, Zed couldn't stop the guilt boiling in the pit of her stomach. She stared at the floor.

“Zed?”

Oh well. He deserved to know anyway.

“The last time I saw him was in the bar in New Orleans, when we kissed for the first time.”

Jim took it pretty well. “Was he really that mad? I thought there was nothing going on between you two.”

Zed laughed. “He wasn't mad about that, Jim. I told you, there was never anything going on between us.” She sighed again, feeling worse then she had in days. She knew telling Jim would probably lessen her burden, but that didn't mean it would be easy.

“You know John has trust issues. I can't blame him. His father accused him of being his mother's murderer before he was five minutes old. He was abused, and his only escape was the occult magic he dedicated himself to.”

She took a deep breath. Jim was listening intently. Looking at his face, she wondered if this was the right thing to do. John had a right to his privacy, and she knew sharing his past was the last thing he wanted.

But on the other hand, the heavy feeling pooling in her stomach was ripping her apart. And she knew she could trust Jim with anything. 

“John doesn't allow himself to have people who care about him because he's terrified that what he does will endanger them. And the truth, Jim? He's right. People have _died_, because they got dragged into the mess he's buried himself into. Chas is probably the only person he actually trusts deep down.”

She knew it was a lot to process. Jim knew John Constantine was a complicated person. It just came with the job. But suffering this much? He didn't know how he dealt with it.

Zed continued with her narrative. “So he pushes people away. He'd rather be alone for the rest of his life then send them down to hell with him.”

Jim almost shuddered. He'd heard about this part, from John himself, muttering about it darkly while swigging from a beer bottle.

He knew Zed was done talking. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, the warm weight soothing against the tension invading her muscles.

“It's not your fault, you know. None of this is.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

His face brightened. “I have an idea!”

Before she registered what was happening, he was picking her up and carrying her to the living room.

She yelped as she bounced around in his arms. He laughed like a madman, a grin stretching his face.

Finally he set her down, gently placing her on the couch. He gave her the remote and gestured towards the TV. “Pick something to watch. I'll be back in a sec with the popcorn.”

Before she could object, he was gone.

Seven hours, three Jurassic Park movies and various snacks later, she was cuddled up to Jim on the couch, a blanket wrapped around the two of them. She sighed happily and he smiled softly.

They were contemplating whether to summon the energy to walk upstairs to the bedroom or just fall asleep on the couch when the doorbell rang. It was so jarring in the middle of the peaceful night that they both jumped when they heard it.

She exchanged looks with Jim. Who on Earth could be at their door at this hour?

She was about to get up to answer it when Jim stopped her. “I'll get it, don't worry.” She almost melted when he pecked her on the forehead before he left.

He went to answer it, reaching the door. From her seat on the couch, Zed didn't hear the doorbell ringing anymore. She began to wonder if the person at the door was still there when she heard Jim open the door.

From there all she heard was his gasp of surprise and then mingled cursing.

She got up to run, fearing the worst. The minute she was off the couch, she heard him call her name, filled with panic and dread.

The scene she found wasn't one she was likely to forget for a while.

Jim was supporting a very injured Constantine. He was huffing in painful gasps as he held onto multiple bleeding wounds for dear life. He managed to glance up to stare at her. When he saw her terrified expression, he tried to go for a smile, which ended up being more of a grimace.

“Right luv, how are you? Don't mean to intrude, but can I stay here for the night?”

She nodded without thinking, he looked so pathetic.

“Great. Thanks Jim, I'm pretty sure I can walk by myself.”

His tone was light and carefree, but his features hardened as he shrugged Jim off. Unfortunately, the second he tried to stand without help, he almost fell. She was glad his hand snagged the hand railing before he hit the floor. 

Jim moved to help him back onto his feet, but as soon as he extended his arm towards John, the blond warlock flinched violently, almost as if he wanted to curl up and protect himself. It was taking all of his willpower not to strike out, Zed could tell. 

Sadly, she wondered what could have made him react so suddenly. But before she could fully understand the state her friend was in, his mask was back up, displaying an easy grin and careful eyes. They were all familiar with _this _John Constantine, the one who never backed down, never let himself have a moment of vulnerability. She sighed.

John brushed off his flinch like it was nothing. Honestly, she should have expected that. He waved away their attempts to help him, and hobbled to their living room. He was about to sink onto the couch, when his eyes took in the scene in front of him.

Zed knew exactly what had made him stop and change his mind so suddenly, snacks, the tv remote and warm throw blanket were occupying the sofa space, clear remnants of their cozy movie night displayed in full view. A sharp stab of guilt hit her for a second. Why was she allowed to be so safe and happy when John had _injuries _to deal with alone?

He turned to face them again, but instead of looking at them, he stared at the floor. “Nevermind luv. I think I’ll just take a shower and be on my merry way.”

Zed was about to protest. John looked like he’d been through hell and back. He was pale, with dark smudges under his eyes. He was also skinnier than usual. She could tell because she could see his shirt was barely hanging onto his frame.

Actually, when she focused on his shirt and the rest of his clothes, she saw they were coated with something black, foul and greasy. She knew it was probably in his hair as well. She realized why he asked for a shower before he hit the road. 

She swallowed her protest, John looked tired enough already. Pointing down the hallway, she said, “The bathroom is down the hall to the right. I’ll have a fresh change of clothes out for you when you're finished.”

John opened his mouth, then looked down at himself and nodded. His expression was relieved, an argument obviously didn't seem to be his forte right now. He lumbered to the bathroom, and they watched him go. It was then that she realized he was limping, hardly putting weight on his left foot. There were blood stains dotting his shirt, and she was pretty sure they looked fresh. 

She tried to swallow past the lump building in her throat. Jim wrapped his arms around her, and she knew without looking at him that that concern was dominating his features.

“He’s going to be okay, Zed. You know that, right?”

She nodded, knowing she was lying to herself. Would anything ever be okay? She knew John was going to end up in hell. Chas didn’t like talking about it, which was understandable. But she’d heard John mutter about it darkly, sometimes even grinning, when he was nursing a drink or ten.

She sighed. “I’m going to get towels. Do you have spare clothes that’ll fit him?”

Jim nodded. “Yeah probably. Give me a sec.” he smiled at her as he left, pausing to peck her on the cheek first.

By then she could hear the water running and John’s hiss of relief when he let the hot water overload his senses. She sighed and sadly wondered how long it had been since he’d had a proper hot shower.

She left the towels outside the bathroom door, where it couldn’t be missed. Jim had already laid out a sweater and jeans. She snorted and dimly wondered what he would look like wearing them. She hadn’t seen him wearing anything but his usual white shirt, tie and traditional trench coat. Well, it couldn’t be any worse than seeing him naked and covered in pig’s blood.

___________________________________

The hot water was blissful. It sunk into his stiff muscles, breaking down the thick shield that was John Constantine. He leaned against the shower tiles, warmed from the steam oozing from the showerhead above him. It drifted aimlessly in the shower, making shapes around him. Dimly, he tried to form pictures out of the steam. 

A useless task, he knew, but it was better than keeling over in the shower.

He was so tired, and the hot water was cocooning him in warmth, making it hard to think straight. He never wanted to come here in the first place, but he knew he needed it. There was nowhere else to go, and besides this place, the only place left was the hospital.

He shuddered at the thought.

His earliest memory of the hospital was when he was ten. It had been a particularly bad day. Cheryl had settled him down in their tiny bedroom upstairs, trying and failing to coax him to sleep. When the door opened and slammed abruptly, his eyes widened. Cheryl ran to the window and peered through the curtain, the smile falling off her face.

There was always a day or two when their father had left for the pub and not come back for a day or two. Those were the days that the siblings got a reprieve from Tom’s rages. They were hoping that would happen today, but apparently not.

John shivered despite the heat in the shower, the memory overwhelming him. It's been awhile since he’d thought about that particular day. _A long while._

_Cheryl trying to calm him. Him slamming her aside like a fly. Her small trembling form on the floor. He was mad._

_So, very, very, mad._

_John shivered in his memories, he shivered in the shower. He remembered audibly what he had tried to do when he was younger, that first and last time._

He snapped himself out of it. Now, the present, was the only time that mattered. Not old, useless memoirs of his broken, battered childhood. He shook his head, water flying from his scalp. As he tuned back into the world around him, he dimly realized there was still the foul black stuff coating the inside of his hair. He scowled with disgust and reached for the shampoo.

He had know idea what the stuff was. The creature he’d tried to send back to hell had writhed and screamed as it was forced into the portal, but that was expected. What wasn’t, was the black stuff that shot out of the portal at the same time as the creature had wrenched free from John’s spell and escaped.

John had never seen anything like it. Never had a monster or demon been able to resist the spell used to take them back to hell. Heck, up until now, he’d thought it was impossible. And the black goo. What was it? He assumed it had to do with the rising darkness. Almost everything did, nowadays.

It was foul, greasy, and smelled worse than hot tar. If he hadn’t been so tired, he probably would have taken a sample back with him to the Mill House to check it out.

It didn't matter anymore, and John had the feeling he’d come to contact with the mysterious substance sooner or later again.

He rubbed the sweet-smelling soap into his blond locks, the water slowly turning black under his feet as he got it off. Unfortunately, the soap was lavender-based. He wouldn’t usually care, but when Chas got back from visiting his daughter, he’d wonder what delayed him, and would notice the smell when he got back. He would have known that whatever happened with the creature, it’d been bad enough to make John camp somewhere overnight. It left very little proof if he wanted to lie about how badly he was hurt.

John snorted fondly, Chas was perceptive that way.

He rinsed the soap and turned off the water, knowing he couldn’t stay here for very long. He washed out his stinging cuts and gently washed over his bruises. They’d probably need bandages, but that could wait. He grabbed the fresh towel and dried off, grabbing the clothes Jim had left out for him.

He grimaced. There was a sweater and a pair of jeans. They looked like they were the right size, but it irked him to be wearing what he knew was definitely Jim’s clothing. That, and he knew what the reaction would be when he came out wearing this. It wasn’t something he’d be caught dead in.

However, his traditional white shirt, black pants, tie and trench coat, were nowhere to be found. Knowing Zed, she had probably done him a favor and tossed them into the wash. He glared sullenly at the sweater as he dragged it towards him. 

_There was a first time for everything._

__________________________________________________

“I haven’t heard a single noise coming from the bathroom in ages, Jim! Nothing but running water.”

Jim smiled at her, she was cute when she was worried. “He’ll be fine. What do you think could happen to him in the shower anyway?”

_“He could be wondering why the two blokes chatting so nicely about him weren’t doing it more quietly.”_

They spun around, like two guilty children stealing something. But they were met with John’s easy grin, and laid-back expression. Even more surprising, he was dressed casually, in the sweater and jeans they’d left out for him.

He looked different, anyone with eyes could notice that much, but it was more than that. With his blond locks freshly washed and the lack of the trench coat that always made him look like he was on the move, he almost looked younger, more vulnerable.

However, that didn’t change the fact that his skin was still paler then normal and he had shadows under his eyes.

“Stop staring at me.” He complained, breaking through her reverie. “I don’t like these clothes anymore then you do.” He looked expectantly at Zed. “well, Luv? Where are they?”

She crossed her arms. “They’re in the wash. They were covered in this weird black goo.”

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his tired face. “Yeah, still trying to figure out what the hell that stuff was.”

“You mean you don’t know?” Zed’s eyes were widening. “What happened out there, John?”

John’s eyes flitted back and forth between her and Jim. “It doesn’t matter. I did say I’d take a shower and hit the road.”

Zed held her ground. “Yeah, you did. But, unfortunately for you, we still have your clothes in the wash. They still have about half-an hour to go. And I don’t really think you’d leave that trench coat anywhere without your supervision.” She smirked. 

He glared daggers at her. She returned his stare, not backing down.

Jim cleared his throat. “John, you look terrible. Some food and rest wouldn’t hurt, right?”

John groaned. “Not you too, mate. I’m fine, and thanks for the shower, but I really have to be going now.”

Zed grabbed her phone and waved it in the air threateningly. “I still have Chas’s number, John. Don’t make me call him.”

_Damn._

He should have known Zed wouldn’t back down. Calling Chas, she knew just what buttons to push to get him to do what she wanted.

So he followed her, albeit sulkily, towards the kitchen. Jim trailed behind, looking uncertain. If John had been in a better mood, he probably would have laughed at the look on his face. The kitchen was cozy-looking, warm and close-knit.

_Yeah, as if Zed would be stupid enough to leave a place like this._

The stubborn voice wouldn’t leave him alone. Too late, he realized he was clenching his fists hard enough to leave marks, and Zed was staring at him worriedly. 

That did it. John knew he had to pick up the pace, get out of here as fast as he could. He still had bad feelings about the creature he’d left behind, he needed to see what he could do to catch it again. Come to think about it, he probably had an old book about it back in the Mill House, he could keep up with some reading-

“John?”

Jim’s voice brought him back from his string of musings, the pair of them had evidently been calling his name while he was thinking. Crap. He was going to have to start paying attention if he was planning on ditching this group later.

He shot them one of his signature smirks. “Yeah, what?”

Zed motioned to two steaming bowls on the kitchen table. They both smelled delicious, and even he knew his usually uncooperative stomach wouldn't disagree with this meal. 

He waved his hand dismissively. “Anything will do, luv.”

She ladled what looked like a thick stew into a bowl for him, Jim pouring water from a jug into several glasses.

They really did make a good couple, John mused. Working together without talking, harmonious in their actions. It was like they didn’t even need words to communicate, just simple touches and light glances.

He shoved a spoonful of stew into his mouth to stop himself from staring. What was this feeling? Was he jealous? He knew no matter who he ended up loving, there would be no chance for even a semi-stable relationship. 

Whatever the reason, the stew was definitely a welcome distraction. It was creamy and rich, full of vegetables and savory meat. For the next twenty minutes, there wasn’t a sound to be heard except the clattering of spoons and forks. John couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a home-cooked meal. Between cases and he’s own destructive behavior, Chas could barely get him to eat as it was. 

He was finishing off his second bowl when Jim was reaching over to grab the bowl of stew and knocked over a glass of water on the table. The glass fell to the floor and shattered, water sloshing on the varnished wood.

He didn't know if it was the sound of the glass hitting or the water droplets dripping from the table to the floor jarring him back to bad memories. 

He could dimly register Zed and Jim cleaning up the mess, one of them grabbing paper towels, the other, he thinks it was Zed, warning them about the broken glass. He could feel reality washing away somehow, and soon cold, bare tiles were replacing the cozy wood floors, leaving his insides feel distorted and nauseous.

_The broken glass was like a beacon on the tiles, he couldn't force himself to look away. Or maybe, it was all he _could _look at, anything was better than the terrified look on his sister's face. Tom Constantine was looming over her like some sort of snake, his features tight and coiled, ready to strike out. _

_"What the hell is wrong with you?!? I never raised you to be so clumsy, did I?" rage clouded his face when she refused to answer him. Her lip was trembling, she could barely look him in the eye. "Talk to me when I'm speaking to you!" he roared, slamming her aside with her fists. She fell to her knees. _

_John felt so lost and vulnerable. He hated the feeling, his control yanked out from under him without giving him time to breathe, time to think. He sat up in frustration and fear and made one of the worst mistakes of his childhood._

_"Leave her alone!" he screamed at his bastard of a father. For a second, there was silence, thick as smoke, filling the room. Tom turned to him slowly. John could barely swallow, he was so scared. He looked at his sister, huddled on the floor, for comfort. _

_Her eyes met his blue ones, and he could feel her terror like a blow to his heart. He had never seen her so frightened, it had never gotten this bad, how on earth had it gotten this bad-_

_His thoughts were interrupted by his dad's voice. Unlike before, his voice was calm, almost steady. _

_"So the killer finally grew a spine."_

_John shivered. Tom glared at him. "If your mother was still alive, she'd want me to kill you for the suffering you've caused us."_

_Cheryl let out a broken sob from the floor. Tom paid her no heed. "Lucky for you, I'll give you the next best thing."_

_He wasted no time, lunging at his son and pummeling ever bit of him he could reach. Cheryl sobbed harder from the floor and John was in so much pain from the blows he barely had time to scream. He struggled for the first three hits, one each to his stomach, face and thigh. The pain was intense and sharp, ripping through his body like fire-_

"John! John, what's wrong?"

He shuddered back to the present, and it took him about three minutes to realize he'd subconsciously raised his hands to protect his face from invisible blows.

He felt like cursing himself. His blurry vision focused on Jim and Zed, their worried faces mimicking the horrified one on his sister's all those years ago.

"What happened? We were cleaning up the glass and you turned white for a minute or two. We couldn't shake you out of it. " Jim explained. 

Zed put her hand on his shoulder and he flinched from the sudden contact. She looked scared for a second, then found her voice again. "John, you have to tell us what's going on! You're freaking us out."

The Warlock took a shuddering breath. Her anxious voice was too similar to his sister's and he couldn't risk his train of thought derailing anymore. He counted to five before he dared to look up. And just as he expected, he was met with Zed’s questioning gaze. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms.

“Oh, does the interrogation start now?” he asked coolly. 

“Cut the bullshit John.” He was almost shocked by how fiery her words were. Seeing him banged up must have affected her more than she let on. " Something happened that's making you freak out at every touch, and we know something went wrong on one of your cases, you never would have stopped by otherwise.”

He caught exactly what she wasn’t saying. _Because you haven’t stopped by in months anyway._

He swallowed. “Zed, nothing happened. Yeah, I might have had a mishap getting this creature to hell, but when don’t I? There are always complications in cases like mine, they happen all the time. You should know that.”

Zed threw up her hands. “Okay, but if you know the case would be difficult, why didn’t you call for backup? Where was Chas?”

John groaned in exasperation. “Chas is away visiting his daughter for a day or two. Did you really want me to spoil that for him?”

“Guys, calm down. This isn’t actually a big deal, John’s fine.” Both of them had almost forgot Jim had been in the room.

John turned to Zed. “See? He agrees with me! Nothing went wrong, I’m fine, and I actually kind of want to leave now, luv.”

Jim turned to the warlock. “That doesn’t mean Zed’s wrong, John. You were hurt when you got here, you're freaking us out, and all she wants is for you to be safe, and maybe explain what happened out there.”

John rounded on him. “Who’s side are you on, mate?”

The tension in the room had reached its peak, and everybody knew they weren’t getting anywhere with their argument. 

The once-hot stew was still sitting on the table. John knew he wasn’t the only one who didn’t feel like eating now. Zed glared at him. “Can you at least tell us what kind of creature it was?”

John sighed. “It was a nasty brute. A-”

But that was as far as the warlock got, because just then a huge roar interrupted him. All three of them glanced outside worredly. 

Jim was the first to break the silence. “What the hell was that thing?”

Zed shook her head. “It sounded like some sort of bear or something.”

Just as suddenly as before, they all watched in horror as some massive thing scraped against one of the windows. They all saw the visible claw marks defacing the window.

John swore. He quickly drew the curtains over the window, then hurriedly turned to Zed and Jim. That’s a _Pamola._ It’s the creature I was trying to send to hell.”

Zed arched her eyebrows. “Tried to?”

John groaned. “The bastard must have followed me here! Do you realize why I didn’t want to stay?”

Jim cut him off. “We can’t argue about that now. We have to figure out what we can do to get rid of the thing.”

John almost laughed. “We can’t get rid of it, mate. I need it in a secluded spot if I’m going to send it to hell, I can’t do it here. Our only hope is to out-wait the damn thing. He stared nervously outside. “It’s a good thing it’s the middle of the night. It there were people outside right now, he’d have a feast for himself.”

Zed shuddered. “Will it leave before daylight?”

John shrugged. “_Pamola’s_ usually don’t prefer sunlight. But if there’s a meal waiting for them, they can be stubborn.”

Another loud roar and crash startled the three of them, making them jump. Another set of claws raked against the front door. John turned to Zed.

“Quick luv. Where’s my bag?”

Zed ran for where she left it, next to the washing machine with the rest of his clothes. She ran back, almost throwing it at him in her haste. The warlock rummaged through it frantically.

His body ached fiercely when he bent over, and he had to bite back a groan. Not bandaging his wounds earlier was looking like a mistake he would regret soon.

He came up with a couple of pieces of chalk and a bottle of holy water. He started with the chalk first, drawing white lines in front of all the entrances. He cursed and jumped backwards when he saw claws scraping for him from under one of the doors.

He drew over the windows too. After he was done, he stood up and chanted, spreading his arms wide. All of the white lines simultaneously glowed, and then faded back to their ordinary white. He met up with the others.

He tossed a bottle each to Zed and Jim. “Douse yourself with these. The chalk provides us with a natural border against the _Pamola_ so it can’t get in. If it does though”, he warned, “the holy water is the only that will stop it from ripping you to pieces, so use it well.”

The three of them covered themselves in holy water as more roars and growls emerged from outside. “Why does it sound louder now?” Jim asked.

“It’s getting angrier. It’s probably sensed the chalk by now, and the bastard’s pissed that we’re keeping him out”, John answered.

The house shook suddenly, the windows rattling violently. John rubbed his temples wearily.

“I never should have come here in the first place.”

Zed shook her head. You were hurt, John. where else were you supposed to go?”

The warlock sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I knew something was wrong. I’ve been tracking this thing for days, I finally got it cornered yesterday, but when I tried to send it to hell it wrenched free and ran off. That’s never happened before. I should have realized the rising darkness was involved and gone after it.”

Jim studied the man in front of him. “John, when was the last time you slept?”

Zed knew exactly why he was asking. John was looking worse and worse by the minute. His hair was rumpled, his eyes tired, his face pale.

"Look, mate, we've got bigger problems to worry about at the moment." John snapped, pointing outside.

As if to punctuate the warlock's statement, a loud growl made the house shake around them as the Pamola grew angrier by the minute.

"Okay, fine. We'll all go crazy if we just wait in here for this thing to get us." Jim said. "I'll take the car and drive it away from here."

Zed looked like she wanted to shake him by the shoulders. "Are you crazy?! The thing will tear you apart before you get in the car!"

Jim looked like he was about to argue, when John broke in. "She's right, mate. _Pamola's_ are fast bastards. You'd never make it."

Jim threw his hands up in the air. "What do we do then? I really don't think that thing's going to leave at daylight. What happens when it sees the street full of people waking up?"

John rubbed his hands together. "I actually think I have a solution to that problem. I can whip up a sleep spell that might keep everybody indoors for a while."

Zed posed the question first."How long?"

The warlock shrugged. "Depends. I can usually keep it up for three or four days with a couple of people. But with a whole neighborhood? I can promise you maybe a day and a half."

"That'll have to do." Zed said, with a determined look on her face. 

“Alright then.” John opened his bag once more, taking out various bottles, small bags and sheets of paper. Eventually, he found the one he was looking for and held it up triumphantly. Zed could see two bottles and some paper clutched into his fists.

He chanted fiercely, mixing the two bottles together, finally draining the contents in his open mouth. He winced at the taste but continued chanting until his eyes glowed their signature white. The chanting reached a momentum, and then it was over. There was no magic sparkle, no booming sound. 

The warlock had a satisfied smile on his face. “Done. That should do the trick.”

To Zed, it looked like the magic had taken a lot out of John, but when he waved her concerns aside, she knew it wasn’t worth arguing. They had bigger problems to worry about anyway. The growls and shrieks from outside were punctuating her thoughts.

Jim shook his head. “Can you at least give us some information about that thing? What’s it capable of?”

“_Pamola’s _are masters at hypnotism. They have other powers, but that’s the one we have to worry most about.” he gestured at the windows, shielded by the curtains. “That’s why I blocked the windows. If you stare ‘em in the eyes, there’s no stopping him. He’ll have free access into the house.”

The trio shuddered at the thought. The shrieks from outside were deafening by now, and Zed knew that the only thing stopping people from piling onto the street was John’s sleep spell. She hoped it lasted long enough. 

It was already 3 am by then, but thankfully, the waves of dawn hadn’t made an appearance yet. They still had some time to form a makeshift plan.

“So what do we do?”

The warlock shrugged. “You’re guess is as good as mine, mate. The only thing I can think of is getting that thing the hell away from here. I can’t exorcise it in a crowded neighborhood.”

Jim sighed in exasperation. “We get that, John. But letting you drive it away alone would kill you for sure."

Zed cut in, flinging car keys in Jim's direction. "Then we're not letting you go alone. Simple as that."

She crossed her arms defiantly, and he wanted to yell out in frustration at her stubbornness. Instead, he took the keys from her hand and started for the back door, mouth set in a grim line.

Jim followed the two of them purposely, and he had to give it to the guy, most people would have started screaming by now.

The _Pamola _was nowhere to be found, Zed and Jim were obviously relieved. John was uneasy though. He knew the _Pamola _had been confident about getting a meal, even with the approaching sunlight. It knew it had them trapped, why the hell had it fled? Besides, he thought, he preferred a monster he could _see _instead of an invisible one.

He kept his face free of concern nonetheless. He knew it had been awhile since Zed and Jim had done something like this, and he didn't want to scare them so early in the game.

He swung the car door open and hauled his body into the front seat, barely concealing a groan when his abused body protested the movement. Jim looked like he wanted to say something for a minute, maybe offer to drive, but an ear piercing cry suddenly shook the air. 

The _pamola _was staring at them through the car, and despite everything John had ever gone through, he still felt a chill when the creature stared him in the eyes._ Eyes. He was forgetting something, wasn't he? What had he been thinking about? Something about the eyes. Gold eyes woven in with black, the patterns were mesmerizing, God his head was foggy, what the hell was going on-_

He snapped out of his daze with a yell. Bloody hypnotism, how the fuck did her forget? The _Pamola _was attempting to pry the car apart while Zed and Jim were glassy-eyed.

He shook Zed's shoulder frantically, praying she'd wake up faster. 

"John? Wh-what's going on?"

John breathed a sigh of relief. "Bout' time you woke up, luv. Wake up Jim, we have to get out of here."

She nodded and started shaking Jim's shoulders, while the blonde warlock jammed the key into the ignition. The loud start of the car sounded like a bullet in the deserted street, and the _Pamola _shrieked along with it. 

John gritted his teeth, the combination of noise mixed with the recent hypnotism was seriously giving him a headache. The car jolted forward and the warlock breathed a sigh of relief when the _Pamola _lost its grip on the car.

Finally, they were making progress. He hated staying at the house, doing nothing made his skin crawl. He swung around to look behind them and just like he'd hoped, the _Pamola _hadn't given up. It was determinedly following the car, and at this rate, he might be able to lead it somewhere secluded enough where he could banish it properly.

_If. _His brain taunted. _If you can banish it._

He just hoped he had enough strength to keep the sleeping spell working, he didn't know how much longer he could hold out. He was mentally and physically exhausted, the only good thing about this situation was that it kept him from thinking about his flashback. Images of Cheryl hunched over on the floor of their crappy apartment in Liverpool were flickering incessantly between his eyes. He shook his head, annoyed. He didn't have time to deal with this right now.

The _Pamola's _increased shrieking ripped him thoroughly out of his thoughts. If he hadn't looked towards the back of the car, he could almost forget that he had passengers. Zed had stopped shaking Jim's shoulders, the man's eyes were glazed but open.

_No wonder Chas never lets me drive the cab, _he thought sarcastically, as the car jolted harshly at a right turn. He realized his mistake quickly, there was no way he could drive the car any further this way, if he passed the oncoming intersection, who knew how many people they'd cross paths with?

Zed looked at him from the backseat, terror plain on her face, and his stomach twisted with guilt. He made a promise to himself after how happy he'd seen her look in New Orleans. That he would leave her alone, finally let her have a normal and safelife. _Just get them out of this horrible mess you created, then you can really leave them alone for good_, he promised himself.

"Hold on tight, luv. This is going to be rough", he warned, and Jim nodded as he wrapped his arms tightly against Zed.

He turned his attention to the _Pamola_, who was gaining speed. He never prayed, but _God dammit _he hoped this worked. 

He pulled the car sharply off the road, the wheels departing the asphalt with a sickening hiss. The grass was wet and slippery with morning dew, and no matter how many times he'd whined about not being allowed to drive the cab, he knew he'd sacrifice his trench coat to have Chas with him to drive for once.

"John!" Jim screamed out, he was literally bouncing in his seat from the car's fierce vibrations. "_Slow the fuck down_, you're going to kill us!"

"Oh, and wait for that thing to eat us?!" he yelled back, jerking his hand at the _Pamola._

Zed interrupted them, and probably for good reason, because the warlock had driven them off the road and through a forest clearing.

"Guys, maybe not the best time right now!" she shouted. John narrowly avoided a patch of trees, his breathing erratic and his palms sweaty. He knew that taking them off the road had been a good idea. The abrupt change of direction had confused the _Pamola_, and probably brought them a couple of minutes to gain some distance. The fact that the clearing was deserted helped as well. On the otherhand, he knew he'd be a fool to think he could go any further, he was going to have to get out of this fucking car and start the damn exorcism already.

_What's going on, John?_

Chas's voice was _so _clear in his exhausted head. But Chas was right. If this had been any other case, any other simple exorcism job, he would have already fucked his chances and got rid of the creature already. What on earth was he waiting for? 

He didn't need to look back to see the terrified faces to get his answer.

_Dammit, Constantine. You're getting soft._

He couldn't stop the car. Stopping the car meant endangering Jim, endangering Zed, the _very people_ he vowed to leave alone and never drag into sinkholes like the rising darkness. He gritted his teeth. This was his fault. He would fix this somehow.

Suddenly, with determination, he pressed his foot on the brake pedal, cutting the gas and stopping the car for good.

"John?" Jim asked, voice almost calm. "Don't do anything stupid."

The Warlock flashed him his signature smirk. "Can't make any promises, mate."

He turned around fully to face them, ignoring the roars that signified the _Pamola's _rapid approach. He clasped one of his hands in Zed's, and placed the other on Jim's shoulder.

"Sorry about this. But I'm getting you guys out of this mess if it kills me", he declared, letting them go to grab his faithful bag under the car seat.

He rummaged around frantically, going through each object and bottle hurriedly. He knew Zed and Jim were both confused, and he had to act fast before they caught on to what he was planning on doing.

Or if the _Pamola _caught up with them first, either way.

Thankfully, he found what he was looking for, two round, smooth objects, pale as milk that smelled sharply of incense.

"What the hell are you doing, John?", Zed asked worriedly.

"Something good, I hope, luv." he replied, his voice confident despite the fact that he was pretty sure his hands were trembling uncontrollably. He ignored it though, and distracted himself by carving something on the white objects with a curved implement, covered in symbols.

The _Pamola _had reached the car by now, and was once more shaking it, trying to make his way inside. John could only hope his carvings were eligible, or this would never work.

He pressed the objects into Zed and Jim's hands, one each. He stared at them in the eyes fiercely, leaving no room for argument. "Just take these and trust me, okay?"

They nodded, no questions asked.

_Dammit, they were really going to hate him for this._

And like countless other times in his life, he blocked out the world and started chanting. He turned to the occult once more, his life's work, exactly like he'd done when he was running from his father, when Astra happened, when he'd needed to save Chas or Zed numerous times before.

His words were loud, distinct and cutting through the cold air around them. It turned the air electric, made the adrenaline in John's body vibrate with delicious energy.

It was times like this when he knew his profession wasn't completely useless, and that it didn't have to always bring devastating loss and heartbreak. That dedicating his life, _his_ _entire being_, hadn't been a total waste in the end.

The expression on Zed's face just before she disappeared was almost enough to remind him of his sister, huddled on the floor in Liverpool, not sad and defeated, but the terrified look she had when she realized her younger brother was attempting to protect her, and that he was willing to hurt himself for her safety.

"JOHN, NO!"

He grinned sadly at her, and at Jim. "Take care of her for me, mate. And tell Chas I'll be home soon."

_Home._

Thinking of the Mill House sent a pang of loneliness through his system. If he ever came out of this alive, Chas would kill him for sure.

He forced himself to look away as their figures were swept away with his magic, his chanting taking them away to safety. He tried to erase their looks of shock from his memory, it made him feel strangely guilty for deceiving them. It was technically for their own good though, he reasoned.

His musings were ripped away from him as the _Pamola _sunk it's claws once more into the car. He winced.

Yeah, he still needed to deal with that.

__________________________________________________

The sudden rush of magic was making her dizzy. She could dimly feel Jim by her side, a strong, comforting weight to anchor herself with. She had no idea where they were headed, but _god dammit_, she wanted to kill John.

He left them behind. How could the selfish bastard do the most caring thing he'd ever done and _stayed behind?_

She was interrupted by the harsh impact of wooden floors under her feet. The familiar surrounding of the Mill House wrapped her in a sense of Déjà vu, reminding her of so many of their old cases.

Jim stared, enraptured by their surroundings. "This is the Mill House, right?"

She smiled at him. She'd forgotten he'd never had a chance to see the place yet. "Yeah. I've always wanted to show you around, but we never had the time."

Suddenly, a deep voice echoed from around the door frame.

"John, that you? Rene had a rescheduled business meeting, I got back early."

The familiar face of Chas Chandler made her want to cry with relief. 

"How was the-" his sentence stuttered to a pause. "Zed? What are you doing here?" he saw Jim standing next to her. "What's going on?" His next question chilled her to the bone.

"Where's John?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While his friends search for him, John is left stranded and injured as he faces the Pamola.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like always, i don't own anything but the plot. Kudos and comments make my day :)

Damn. 

He swore the _Pamola _hadn't looked as creepy from the inside of the car, but now, with a personal close-up, goosebumps were rapidly rising across his skin.

At least he was in his element now. With Zed and Jim standing trustingly at his side, all he could think about was making sure they got out of this alive. Now, with them safe, he could finally focus on what he was actually good at without worrying.

He racked his brain for all the vital information he possessed when it came to dealing with a _Pamola._

His memory took him to when he was 19, studying fiercely on a book his good friend Jasper Winters had given him. He remembered reading the chapter on the _Pamola, _their strengths and weaknesses. They were agile bastards, fast on their feet and scared of practically nothing. Their roots were made up of part bird, part moose. They were literal gods of thunder in some places, but lucky for him, he knew he was only dealing with a minor right now. Unfortunately, even the less powerful creatures could control frigid temperatures and create awful storms. Hypnotism was another thing he'd have to worry about. He did know that fire was a formidable weapon against them, and the fact that he was fighting the _Pamola _in full daylight was also lucky. Along with that, the book had said that while masters of stealth and smell, they had remarkably poor eyesight. 

He pursed his lips. His hands were twitching. They wanted to be creating magic, he knew, but he couldn't just blindly start spells if he didn't know where to aim. He hated waiting, but he knew if he was patient enough for the _Pamola _to make its first move, his odds would be better.

He could hear the _Pamola's _raspy breathing as it sought him out. The creature was about a foot away from his position, coiled up and ready to strike. Sweat trickled down between his shoulder blades as it took in the smell in its surroundings.

He could see it up close now, the full moose head and fierce, powerful wings folded against its body. He got a glimpse of its eyes, a stormy grey color, changing and shifting like lightning between clouds. He shook his head to clear the foggy sensation that overcame him as soon as he looked away. _Hypnotism. Don't be stupid._

He knew he was screwed as soon as the _Pamola _ripped its head back and _roared _up at the sky, which by then was swirling with black, angry storm clouds. The screech was so horrible, it made the warlock want to fall to his knees in agony. It took all of his resolve to make sure his legs stayed firmly under him, but he was pretty sure they were trembling pathetically.

The roar was a show of dominance, the _Pamola _was confident and not backing down anytime soon. John knew he didn't have a lot of time to stall, this thing was prepared to attack him _now. _He could use magic to keep it at bay for a little while, and then when it was weakened, take advantage and send it to hell.

_"Lispora sanci fuse alhro"_, he chanted softly, bringing his hands together, feeling the burn of adrenaline as the familiar spots of fire appeared in both of his palms. He exhaled. The motions were soothing, familiar the way nothing else was. All he needed was Chas's familiar form beside him, and he could almost believe this was a normal case.

The _Pamola _wasn't stupid, it backed up and eyed him warily. He grinned. 

"Come and get it, you bastard!"

The _Pamola _shrieked in response, beating its wings furiously, lightning filling the sky, thunder pounding in tune to his temples.

John clenched his teeth to stop himself from groaning out loud. He waved the fire menacingly in front of him to give his brain some time to think, time to _act._ He needed a plan, one that didn't end with him being eaten alive.

The _Pamola _was getting increasingly impatient with his lack of action as well, and before he knew it, it was racing at him, the thundering of his feet matching the howl of the angry sky. 

The Warlock chanted faster, dodging the _Pamola's _blows. The creature's claws were wickedly sharp, black as rock and about the size of John's arm. He returned the favour by flinging fire at it, making sure to keep it at a safe distance. 

Unfortunately, even if the fire was keeping it at bay, it didn't seem to be wounding the _Pamola _at all. The strong, almost metallic feathers covering its body were stronger than they looked. He growled in frustration. He wouldn't be able to keep the spell for much longer, he had to end this. He was about to launch into a different spell, when a voice interrupted him.

"_So you sent them away, huh? Typical. You know you never deserved them in the first place, right?_"

His blood turned to ice. He froze in his tracks, completely forgetting about the threat in front of him. It was that voice. It made the warlock want to clench his hands over his ears and hide.

He brushed away the feeling and turned to face Thomas Constantine.

His father's smirking form greeted him, making him catch his breath. 

"Dad?", he croaked out.

The elder Constantine shook his head. "_You were never my son, boy. You wanna know what you are?" he spread his hands. "You're a monster. A murderer!_"

He was shaking with rage by now. This was nothing he hadn't heard before, why the fuck was his brain messing with him _now_?

"Why are you here?!" he yelled. 

His father leered at him. "_C'mon, Killer. You know the effects of a Pamola's hypnotism, don't you?_"

"Hallucinations, visions, seeing the past, present and future." he murmured, remembering the book.

"_Damn right. The horrible depths of your mind brought me here, and now I'm going to make sure you never get the chance to hurt someone else ever again_."

It was like time had slowed down, but suddenly, John's head was slammed into the ground. Stars erupted in front of his vision, blurring his surroundings. 

_No! _He wanted to scream. The _Pamola's _entire weight was on him, his entire body was aching but he was pretty sure the burning pain in his left leg meant it was broken. He struggled, ignoring it. The flames from his hands dissipated with his spell. The _Pamola _growled menacingly, making sure he wouldn't be stupid enough to try to attack it now. It's eyes glinted at him cruelly for a second, before pressing a fraction of its weight on John's broken leg. He cried out in pain, head swimming with dizziness as his vision went dark at the corners. He thrashed once more, a last, futile effort to gain the upper hand. The _Pamola _was expecting it though, and slashed a sharp claw across the Warlock's chest. 

This wasn't good. The new wounds, mixed with the ones that were still healing from yesterday meant blood loss was going to be an issue if he didn't end this fast.

He bit his lip to stop from crying out again. His chest was on fire, and he knew blood was starting to stain his green sweater. 

Except it wasn't his, it was Jim's. Thinking about Jim was making him think of Zed, and the last thought he had before his head made contact with the ground for good was how glad he was about leaving them behind. At least they were safe.

His world went mercifully dark soon after.

__________________________________________________

"You did what?!"

The pair on the couch were staring at him guiltily. He rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated beyond belief.

"Let me get this straight. John was injured, he made his way to your house, the _Pamola _he was dealing with followed him there, you guys drove it away with Jim's car, and then he deliberately sent you here with magic _and you didn't stop him?_"

He took a deep breath. Only years of dealing with John's sarcasm and terrible plans were keeping him from losing his shit. He knew how to stay calm in situations like this, but even then, they showed up too frequently for his liking.

It didn't help that he now had to deal with Jim and Zed. He'd definitely missed them, but after not seeing them for almost four months he had wanted their reunion to be less scary. They had looked so guilty after telling him what had happened, something about John's visit had worried them more than usual. 

He didn't need them to know how the warlock had been acting recently, the late nights where he would do nothing but practice spells, running on no sleep and barely any food, jumping from case to case without ever taking a break for himself. Chas was worried about him for sure, but he never broached the subject because he knew John would just retreat into himself and talk even less than usual. He knew his friend was having recurring nightmares lately, nights where he would find him on the sofa in the Mill House, drenched in sweat, hands curled around a familiar beer bottle, but not drinking with his normal vigor.

"Chas?"

He cursed himself for getting sidetracked as he pulled himself out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, just thinking about what we're going to have to do to get John out of this mess", he said, laughing softly to ease the tension. "It'll be okay. John can handle himself on solo cases, it's just with the rising darkness getting stronger every day, the cases get harder." he took a deep breath. "How bad did he look when he came to you?"

Jim shook his head. "Not good. He was barely standing upright, swaying on his feet. He had a couple of nasty claw marks on his back, and he was flinching whenever we got to close."

_Damn it._ "Did he get any sleep or rest? Food? Did you guys look at the sort of wounds he had? Did he get any medical attention for them before you guys launched into this crazy monster hunt?"

He knew he was dangerously close to full-blown yelling, and the pair in the room were staring at him nervously. He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up in his distress. _Calm down Chas. Think._

"He didn't let us check his wounds. He took a shower, said he was fine afterwards. He did eat though." Zed said, trying to placate him.

Chas wanted to laugh hysterically. "So when he said he was fine, you believed him?"

He knew it wasn't their fault but he really wished they called him ahead of time. If John's life was in danger, he would have called a raincheck on visiting his daughter. 

"We need to find him. Fast." he looked at them hopefully. "Please tell me you know where his last location was?"

Zed whipped out her phone. "My GPS was on while we were driving. Hopefully, we'll be able to track him down", she said triumphantly.

He grinned at her. "Nice. I'll grab my jacket."

He left them to it, grabbing his jacket from where he discarded it earlier. He also snatched the cab keys, the metal a familiar weight in his palm. He'd lost count of how many times he needed them, clenched comfortingly in his fists after a rough case with the warlock.

He jangled them in front of the pair, his hand already on the door handle. "It's already mid-afternoon, John could be anywhere. Let's go."

__________________________________________________

He blinked his eyes foggily. It felt like an anvil was cleaving his head open, and a low groan was released from his throat when he attempted to sit up.

_Woah. Easy, John._

His world tipped sickenly to a 180 degree turn, and the meager bowl of soup he'd had at Zed's house was threatening to make a reappearance. He clenched his jaw, stubbornly keeping his resolve. He wasn't throwing up here.

Where was here, anyway? He took a couple of deep breaths to soothe the nausea churning in his stomach, while cautiously opening his eyes to survey his surroundings.

Upon opening his eyes, he was relieved to find that wherever he was, it was dark, easier to hide spells and himself. He was in some sort of cave. The walls were covered in mildew and the air was significantly colder than it had been before he lost consciousness. He cursed inwardly. That meant he'd been out for at least a couple of hours, because the temperature and darkness meant it was late at night. 

The _Pamola _was helpfully absent, but it still sent shivers of uneasiness coursing through him. He needed a plan.

He looked down at himself. Even he had to admit to himself that he could have been in better shape. Dried blood was coating the stupid sweater, he could count at least six or seven deep claw marks. His body ached as well, bruises were definitely going to pattern his skin later.

Along with that, he could definitely tell his left leg was broken. How badly, he didn't know, but he had to find a way to get out of here.

He clenched his teeth and swung his body upwards in a futile effort to rise. The reaction was imminent, he ended up biting the inside of his cheek as a scream of pain threatened to give away the fact that he was awake. His left leg was on fire, the pain was blocking out all the other rational thoughts in his head. He hissed, rose from his knees, and pulled himself agonisingly to his full height. He tried vainly to keep his broken leg from jostling, and swayed for a couple of seconds, while his vision tilted dramatically. He was beginning to wish he'd stayed on the floor, but he put up his hands to brace them on the wall of the cave to steady himself. He wasn't going down again, he needed to clear his head and get out of here.

While he waited for his breathing to even out and the pain from his leg and chest to fade, he once again let his eyes roam his surroundings, searching for anything he could use to his advantage.

With further inspection, he realized the cave was much bigger than he first thought, and that a pile of rubble, evidently from a collapsed wall, was hiding the rest of the space from view.

He clenched his mouth closed as tight as possible, as he attempted to force his body to move. The pain in his leg, which had been reduced to a dull throbbing, came back full force, as he jostled the broken limb. 

The resulting half-shuffle was created, keeping his left leg from touching the ground, but it didn't help in the least. Every time he raised his leg off the ground, the wounds on his chest felt like they were splitting open, and the slightest vibrations from his movements were jostling the broken limb. It was bringing tears of pain to his eyes, and his resolve was slowly crumbling. He pushed the sudden urge to close his eyes away and made his way to the other side of the cave.

The sight that greeted him made him stop completely.

The _Pamola's _powerful form was haunched on the floor. It took John's pain-riddled mind a minute to realize the creature was sleeping, its eyes were firmly closed, breathing echoing throughout the cave.

It took him a second to realize how cold it was in the damp cave, his breath was clouding the air. He shivered involuntarily, knowing it was the _Pamola's _presence creating the drafty winds and sharp smell of ozone. 

What shocked him the most was the fact that his beloved bag was sitting innocently in front of the _Pamola_, just inches away. His brain raced with possibilities. All he had to do was reach the bag, get the chalk and holy water needed for the exorcism, and finally banish this nightmare.

He'd underestimated how badly he was hurt, though. He knew that it would be practically impossible to walk to the bag without making noise. 

It was a torturously slow process, he ended up covering his mouth with his sleeve to hide his ragged breathing. Each step made him want to curl up in agony, and his repetitive mantra of _you've been through worse, you've been through worse _wasn't helping as much as he wanted it to.

But there, just one more step and his bag would be within reaching distance! And just in time too, his breathing was getting harsher, and black spots were starting to make an unwelcome appearance in the corners of his vision.

He slumped downward, forgetting to be quiet, forgetting the screaming pain from his injuries as his broken leg met the ground. The fabric from his bag was clenched tight in his fists, a beacon of reassurance in the horrible cold of the cave. He was already grasping the holy water and chalk. There was no way he would be able to draw the traditional symbols on the floor around the _Pamola_, even he knew his ailing body wouldn't be able to manage it. He did hear about certain lucky circumstances where just throwing chalk over a creature would banish them as well with holy water and chanting, and he was grateful that he'd kept a bag of crushed chalk for that reason exactly. 

No matter how terrible his situations got, John Constantine would never _pray _for help. Not at Newcastle. Not in the sewers with Ann Marie. And he definitely wasn't about to start now. He still found himself thinking about what might happen if the _Pamola _would do to him if the chalk spell wasn’t good enough.

_After all, it didn’t help you last time._

He shivered involuntarily. He prepared himself for the reaction he was about to receive, as his hands opened the precious bottles of holy water. He wasted no time, throwing it across the creature’s back and wings.

The effect was instantaneous. The _Pamola _opened its eyes and roared, its strong muscles contracting in pain. The warlock grinned. The bastard deserved it, and it probably felt like liquid fire was coating its skin. While the creature was distracted, he fumbled with his bag of crushed chalk and swung his arm out to throw a handful towards the _Pamola_. 

It cried out once more, now in defiance. It lumbered to its full height, towering menacingly over the warlock. That wouldn’t do at all. He needed it to stay still.

He gave it his all, vigorously chanting, as the _Pamola_ was brought to its knees once more. The creature howled and shrieked, the noise was deafening. John closed it off, focusing solely on the task at hand. He was glad the _Pamola_ didn’t look like it was able to escape anytime soon. He was more than exhausted, and he knew Chas and the rest of them would be full-on worrying by now. 

However, he underestimated the force of the creature’s yelling, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead as he realized loose pieces of rock were starting to fall in the tiny cave. Vibrations were shaking its tiny interior, and he knew the whole place would cave in if he didn’t end this soon.

_“Asporas leriotus zilifosu!” _he bellowed with an air of finality. It was over, that was all he could do. The pain was returning as the buzz of adrenaline faded, and his relief when he saw the Pamola disappear was unlike any he’d felt in awhile.

His triumph was short-lived, and he cursed. The ceiling of the cave was giving way, and fast. He needed to move.

But when he tried to get his legs to obey, they wobbled and folded under his dead weight. His vision was getting blurrier, and he could barely form coherent thoughts.

_ I'm going to make sure you never get the chance to hurt someone else ever again_, Tom Constantine whispered, and he shivered. It was his last thought before his world went black.

__________________________________________________

_Tap tap tap._

His fingers were absentmindedly fidgeting with the drivers wheel, the pads of his fingertips relentlessly beating against the leather. He knew it wasn't the only sign betraying his uneasiness. The shadows under his eyes and the worry lines were finding a permanent residence on his face. He was beyond tired, with everything going on since his visit to his daughter. It was pure panic keeping him awake and driving right now.

He paused momentarily to glance up at his rear view mirror. Zed and Jim also looked tired, Jim's head was resting on her shoulder. His heart clenched at the sight involuntarily. He was glad they were happy, they deserved that. But seeing them so content, and knowing what their happiness probably looked to John, who was abandoned by his older sister at a young age, drove knives of vicious guilt into his heart. He loved his best friend, the warlock never deserved that.

Damn, his legs were starting to fidget too. He tried to stop the repetitive motions, tried to stay calm.

A hand at his shoulder startled him, jerking him out of his reverie. Zed backed away easily.

"Are you alright? You've been on edge ever since we started driving."

He barked out what could have been a pathetic excuse for a laugh and a sob.

"Of course I'm on edge! We've been in situations like this before, but with the rising darkness getting worse everyday, I guess I'm just worried I'll finally find out what John's limit is." he breathed out a shaky laugh.

Zed knew he was close to freaking out, and gave him a reassuring look. "He'll be fine, Chas. You know more than anyone he's been through worse before. He'll pull through."

He nodded, envious of her certainty. She sat back in her seat once more, fiddling with her phone.

"We're almost there. Chas, you're going to have to pull over here."

_Here_, was out in the middle of nowhere, a desolate road with old forests on both sides. He stopped the car, and his uneasiness sparked up again as soon as he saw the skidmarks of another car, printed into the dark mud.

He pointed at it. "This was the car you were driving, right?"

Jim nodded. We went off in the forest for a couple more miles, until John got us to the Mill House."

Chas gestured into the woods. "Then the car shouldn't be too hard to find", he said determinedly.

The trek into the woods proved to be more difficult than it looked. Most of the trees were dead and rotting, and creaked ominously at every opportunity. The fallen trees littering the forest floor were damp and slippery. Chas barley gave the scene a second glance, his eyes staring forward determinedly on his target.

It didn't take them too long. The harsh tire marks where the car had skid earlier all led to a full stop. As soon as they found the last of the tire imprints, they found what they were looking for.

Zed couldn't conceal a gasp when the sight greeted them. Even Chas felt a stab of horror when he saw it.

The car was a wreck, to be exact. Broken glass and metal crunched under their feet, remnants of what used to be the car's windows and hood. It wasn't even upright, he could see long claw marks where a huge hand had tossed the car over. He shuddered, his imagination supplying him with visions of John trapped in the shaking car, the _Pamola _leering outside. 

"Chas?"

He was almost grateful for the interruption, he'd almost forgotten the pair were behind him.

"Yeah?" _Damn, why did his mouth feel so dry all of a sudden? _

"We're going to get him back. He's going to be okay." Zed said, her voice soft. Jim was staring at him as well, eyes filled with concern.

He wanted to know why they were looking at him like he was delicate and fragile, a glass object seconds away from shattering. Then he dimly realized his hands were trembling violently. _Shit_.

_How do you know?! How could you possibly know that this will turn out okay!? _His internal voice screamed out. He was so tired of the worry, of the grief. Her voice was a comfort nevertheless, and he nodded in thanks for her reassurance.

She stared at him determinedly. "I can find him."

Chas's entire train of thought derailed. "What are you talking about?" he managed to croaked out.

She grinned at him dryly. I can still produce visions, you know. I'll just find him using the car."

He was about to argue, when Jim interrupted her instead. "Do you know what you're doing?"

She nodded.

"I trust you. If anyone could find John, it's you."

She smiled at him, and Chas couldn't find the strength to disagree. He was exhausted, and he trusted Jim's opinion. Zed marched towards the car, and both Chas knew he wasn't the only one who saw her hesitate. He also knew why. Seeing her with her hands out, ready to glean information from people and objects, brought back too many memories of the years past.

Zed's eyes glowed white, her hair fluttering as she placed her hands almost delicately on the wreckage that used to be a car. The woods around them creaked and swayed, providing an endless cacophony of sounds that made Chas want to crawl out of there on his hands and knees.

It only took a few minutes. He knew Jim was staring back and forth between him and Zed, looking desperately lost. Chas wanted to know that everything was going to be okay, otherwise, how could he comfort Jim?

It took him a second to realize that while Zed was standing completely motionless, her face wasn't devoid of emotion. His gut clenched horribly as he watched tears pour slowly down her cheeks.

_No no no no no no no._

He scrubbed one of his hands across his face, closing his eyes and praying for hope, trying to ignore the fact that Zed could be seeing the warlock's dead body at that very moment. John _couldn't_ be dead. Not after everything.

Zed came out of her vision stunned and hiccuping, as she dried her tears and tried to speak.

"He's just lying there. So still, so much-" she gulped, the tears threatening to make a reappearance "-so much _blood."_

_Damn it!_

Chas swung around and violently struck his fists out. His knuckles met rotten wood, and he spent the next four minutes pulverizing it, his fists meeting the tree satisfyingly. The whole time, his internal thoughts stayed with him, taunting him. _Why didn't you go with him? Why weren't you there?_

He turned around to face the others when he couldn't ignore them any longer. Zed's face was filled with grief, and Jim couldn't look him in the eye. He swallowed through his anger and attempted to marshal his vocal chords into order.

"So that's it then, huh?" he said, the sound of his voice gruff and piercing in the stillness of the forest.

Zed looked at him in horror. "He's not _dead _Chas! I saw him, he looks fucking awful, but I can tell the difference between living souls and dead ones."

Her words stunned him momentarily. He furiously thought about what she'd said earlier, trying to figure out how his brain had jumped to conclusions so fast. Was he so resigned to the people around John dying that he figured it was only a matter of time before the tables turned? Hadn't that been his deep-rooted fear this whole time? On the other hand, Zed's promise that John was still alive sent hope like a white-hot blaze to his heart.

"Tell me everything you saw. _Everything_." 

Jim and Zed stared at each other for a minute. He knew he was worrying them, his bent posture and every haggard line on his face were all betraying his state of mind. He wasn't thinking clearly, and right now, that could be a very dangerous thing.

Zed started hesitantly. "He got out of the car, and he tried to start a spell, but something distracted him." she shook her head, lost in thought. "I've never seen him like that before. He looked terrified, and lost. Like he was seeing something no one else could see."

Chas wanted to swear again. "Hypnotism", he managed to say, his teeth clenched angrily. He'd heard John talk about how powerful hypnotism was, heck, he'd seen John _do _hypnotism occasionally. He wondered what the bowels of his friend's mind had managed to dig up. Zatanna? Newcastle? Astra Louge? Gary Lester? The list was endless.

"What else did you see?" Jim asked, bringing him back to the present.

"After John got distracted, the _Pamola _roughed him up." she winced, and Chas resisted the urge to ask just how badly the creature had _roughed John up_.

"Then it dragged him off somewhere, my vision was pulled to somewhere nearby, a cave, I think."

Chas was relieved. There was no guarantee they could save John, but they had a plan now, at least. "Can you find it?"

She nodded confidently, and Chas swore half of the tension left his frame in that moment, purely out of relief. "Lead the way, then."

The small group made their way behind Zed, who was practically running at this point. It took them roughly twenty minutes of walking until she stopped, her entire posture rigid. "Here", she finally said, her voice soft despite the nervousness they all felt.

Chas knew what she meant. The magic in the air was practically humming with energy, turning the air electric. He was smelling ozone, his blood was pumping furiously through his veins. He felt somewhat dizzyingly high and completely grounded at the same time. He'd felt this way around exorcisms, demons and, his heart though with a pang, his best friend. It was something he always loved about John, the quick sharp fire that lived inside him, ever present despite the man's destructive thoughts and behavior. At the end of the day, he could always count on the warlock to bring a crappy joke and a shit-eating grin to the most grimacing of situations.

Forcing himself out of his thoughts once more, he indeed saw a cave up ahead. Seeing it brought a whole basket of emotions to his mental doorstep. Part of him was glad this nightmare was almost over, but the more rational part of his brain argued that the night was just beginning. Who knew what John had gotten himself into this time? 

He had to force himself not to push through Zed and Jim in front of him and just run into the cave like he was insane. 

They all collectively stopped at the mouth of the cave, and Chas's mouth went dry when he remembered reading about how most caves were actually bigger than they looked on the outside. He glanced at the others momentarily, gathering his strength.

"Stay together", were his last words, and they trudged solemnly onwards.

__________________________________________________

He couldn't do it. His eyes felt like two lead points, dead weights refusing to cooperate. He groaned miserably, because as he came to, the pain in his body seemed to triple by itself. The wounds on his back and upper torso were on fire, and his broken leg was leaving him dizzy and nauseous. He was seriously considering just lying there until he managed to pass out again. He also didn't think that the fact that if he fell asleep he probably never would wake up again didn't really qualify as a pressing concern at this point.

_"John?"_

He gritted his teeth. No. Not again. _Never _again.

_"John, c'mon, get up."_

Dammit. He raised his head a fraction of an inch, his gaze turning to meet the face of his biggest failure.

"Hey luv", he croaked, knowing deep-down he was just talking to a patch of empty space.

Astra smiled at him. It was like not a day had passed since that fateful day at Newcastle. She was still wearing the same clothes, a white dress that made her look even more innocent. The only thing missing was the terrified look on her face. This version of Astra Logue had a peaceful expression, free of worry and fear. It made her look like a completely different kid, and it made John's heart ache painfully.

_"Is this what you wanted John?"_ she asked, her voice soft and sweet.

He choked out what could have been a desperate sob. "I don't know, Astra. But you should know more than I do that it's probably what I deserve."

She shook her head, her frizzy curls jostling with every movement. _"No, John. You never deserved this. What do you think Cheryl would say if she could see you right now?"_

Just the thought of his older sister made the warlock want to flinch. He never told anyone about why he had been so desperate to escape Liverpool's clutches, but he had told Chas once, after a case and a couple of beers in the local pub. After that, Chas had wisely learned never to mention her, because it would put John in a miserable mood for the next few days. The fact that nightmares also plagued him after thinking about Cheryl didn't help either. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "She would tell me to get the hell up", he decided, staring her in the eye. 

Astra nodded. He reached up, pushing his bruised and battered body upwards. Every nerve in his body flared with pain again, but he couldn't stop now. He braced his hands under him, finding the strength to eventually stagger upright. He leaned heavily on the cave wall, barely keeping his knees from shaking.

_"You'll be okay, John. You'll get there somehow."_

He shook his head blearily. He dimly noticed that Astra's form was flickering slowly, turning blurry at the edges. "Don't leave, _please_", he croaked out pathetically. "I can't get out of here by myself." 

He was beyond desperate at this point, but even he could laugh about how ironic his current situation was. Here he was, too weak to walk, and he was pleading for help from _Astra Louge_, never mind the fact that she wasn't even real, just a figment of his imagination.

But Astra just smiled at him. _"You don't need my help." _she gestured behind him, where the cave's opening was. "_Help is on the way. Just remember what I told you, John. Even you deserve redemption."_

Her silhouette started to shimmer. The warlock clenched his eyes shut. He couldn't watch, not again. He didn't think he'd ever be able to see the child he'd doomed all those years ago disappear all over again. But he had to. He couldn't let her leave without-

"Astra!" she turned to him, one last time, eyes bright and fierce. "I'm so sorry, luv. For everything", he whispered, tears making their way down his face.

He wrenched his eyes open once more, unable to ignore the silence any longer. As he expected, Astra was gone. He felt a violent urge to fall to his knees and weep.

Until Chas showed up.

__________________________________________________

The inside of the cave wasn't any more welcoming than the exterior. The whole place sent chills down his spine, goosebumps rising on his skin. He didn't want anything to do with the place, but with Zed muttering about how she could sense John nearby, he didn't really have other options.

Thinking about his best friend brought a whole new level of uneasiness. Jim and Zed hadn't specified what John had looked like when he got to their place, but Chas's imagination filled in the blank spots. He'd seen John at his worst too many times since Newcastle and Ravenscar. _And to think, you actually thought_ _since Newcastle had been so terrible, maybe the worst was finally over_. He clenched his eyes to keep tears from escaping the corners of his eyes. The thought gave him a sick sense of irony now. John didn't deserve this. After everything he'd been through, losing his mother, being blamed for her death, the abuse from his father, Cheryl leaving, Newcastle, Astra, Ravenscar, Gary-

_Jesus_

The list was almost too long to contemplate. He knew John was amazing at putting on shows. Shows meant to fool people, establish a persona so vibrant and distinct it would be impossible to forget. As far as he knew, Chas was the only person who'd ever been allowed to witness cracks in the facade, small and barely recognizable in the middle of a hectic case or supernatural oddity. But after those cases, quiet evenings spent calmly at the Mill House, they reached their peak violence, slowly breaking the Warlock's mental strength. Nights spent waking up to screams from John's bedroom, only to find him shaking in bed, hands trembling and sweat dotting his forehead. 

On good nights, this would mean offering help that was quickly denied with a shake of the head and a muttered _"I'll be fine.''This_ was followed by a hurried smile, forced and pained. It barely took time for John to put up his facade once more, he'd had lots of practice for it. But Chas never had the heart to mention his shaking hands and violently trembling form afterwards, regardless of whether it would be worth it in the long run. 

And those were the _good nights_. Anything was better than the nights Chas would stay up holding John's limp form as the man sobbed and shook, fragile as glass in his arms. Those were usually the nights following cases that brought back buried memories, ones that dealt with abusive families falling apart, and kids, _especially _kids.

Had it been that bad at Jim and Zed's place? Did John go find them because he'd faced exorcising something even he wasn't capable of? _Dammit, Chas, you should have _been _there!_

He was literally John's only support system, he'd promised himself a long time ago that would never change. He was kind of glad Zed had distanced herself after New Orleans, she deserved to be happy. On the other hand, the loyal, fierce part of him that refused to leave John's side, the part that stuck with him to every disastrous trip to visit his daughter and reconcile with Renee, was _furious_. Rage, white-hot and burning with energy coursed through his body at the thought of the warlock being abandoned by someone else all over again. It happened too many times for his liking, and guilt still plagued him for not being there at Newcastle. It didn't help that John probably preferred that he wasn't there, he probably figured Chas would have left him by now like everyone else had, Ritchie Simpson, Anne-Marie, Judith.

A low moan interrupted his train of thought, and what also sounded like a voice.

He cursed himself for getting distracted so frequently. He rushed ahead, passing Zed and Jim in seconds. He was so fucking close, he _heard _John, he was _here_, and everything was finally going to be okay.

He skidded in eagerness to reach the other side of the cave wall. The voice was nearing, and Chas could definitely recognize the Warlock's familiar british drawl. 

Even if it sounded horribly weak.

When he first saw Chas enter, he flinched, terrified. His expression turned to one of dull sorrow afterwards, barely sparing his best friend a second glance. John was leaning on the cave floor, his arms wrapped around himself. He was shaking, sobs clearly racking his too-skinny frame. His clothes were ruined, covered in mud and, to Chas's growing horror, blood. His hair stuck out in every direction, his eyes filled with misery and fear. Tear tracks were visible on his face, and Chas's heart ached at what the warlock had been through this time.

"John?", he whispered. He wasn't expecting a response, and he had to stop the tears from escaping when he got one.

"Chas." the hollowed tone was so dejected, completely powerless. "You're not here right now, you know that, right?"

Fuck, it was taking all of his extra lives to not sink to his knees at that moment. His jaw was trembling, his mouth incredibly dry. 

"Why would you say that?"

John laughed, and the sound echoed through the cave. It wasn't his usual laugh, the one that filled Chas with warmth. This kind of laugh came from a broken man, and it chilled him to the bone. 

"You and I both know this isn't real, Chas." The warlock stared him straight in the eyes. "Beside", a few more tears made their way down his face, "you're not the first person to visit me tonight."

Shit, he'd almost forgotten about the hypnotism. Who else had come to see John? He ran the list of names through his head, none of them pleasant. He needed to fix this.

"John, look at me." he said softly. And the warlock did. He stared at him with empty eyes, eyes that used to be filled with mischievous energy. Seeing John so utterly broken made Chas weak at the knees, he wanted to scream and cry and _hit something._

Suddenly, the sound of nearby footsteps could be heard behind them. Chas knew Zed and Jim had finally caught up, but John had no idea what was going on. It was clear the blood loss was worse than it looked. Chas glanced at the pair as they rounded the corner, literally running. John cowered next to him.

"Did you find-" Jim's voice came to an abrupt halt as the couple viewed the horrific scene in front of them. 

John was groaning now, a pitiful whimpering noise that made Chas want to cover his ears. He didn't know what John had been through this time, but it looked like sudden noises and appearances were spooking him somehow. 

He backed away slowly, hands up in a non-threatening gesture. He stared at the pair behind him for a minute, trying to convey his urgency without speaking. It was clear John wasn't thinking straight, he could barely stand, let alone talk. Chas knew from past experiences, _hateful _experiences, that a panicked warlock was not a good one. There'd been terrible nights, right after Gary Lester had died, that had John waking up in the middle of the night screaming. It was especially scary at times when it took a few minutes for him to gain his bearings, because he often forgot he was safe, in the Mill House.

Zed and Jim seemed to get how bad the situation had gotten. They backed away slowly as well, tension so thick in the air Chas felt like he was breathing it in. He swallowed heavily, eyes locked onto his best friend. 

"John?"

The warlock turned to him. Blue eyes, now unfamiliar with grief and glassy with unshed tears, stared back at him. He could almost believe it was a different person, one Chas had never met. Where had the cocky, ignorant british man gone, the one filled with ear-splitting smirks and countless wisecracks at his disposal?

He swallowed his despair. He needed to fix this.

"We're here, John." he spread his arms. "I'm here", he said softly. The warlock let out a shaky sigh. He braced onwards, ignoring the movement. "I'm not going anywhere John. We're going to take you home. The Mill House. Remember?"

John let out a broken half-laugh, half-sob. "Of course I_ bloody remember _Chas. How the hell could I ever forget?" his eyes suddenly widened fractionally. "I sent Zed and Jim to the Mill House, Chas. You have to promise me you'll keep them safe, mate. Please."

He turned around. For the first time since he entered the cave, he was at a complete loss. How the fuck could he fix this? Zed was shaking, and Jim had tears at the corners of his eyes. 

"Of course I'll keep them safe." Jesus, his voice was starting to break. If he wasn't careful, tears would find their way out soon enough, and he couldn't afford to break down now.

"But not without you, John. I'm not leaving here without you."

John cracked a smile, a small one, but it was there. For a second, Chas saw a flash of the John he recognized. 

"Go ahead mate. In the meantime, I'm busy bleeding out at the moment, so we might need to have this conversation some other time."

Right. Chas had a hard time ignoring the steady pool of blood covering his friend's midriff. John needed medical attention fast, or at least something to stop the bleeding until they could get him to the Mill House.

The only problem was that Chas didn't think he could handle moving the warlock. He knew it was stupidly irrational, but John seemed so fragile, he was terrified of hurting him further.

He gritted his teeth and turned to Zed. "We have to get him to the car."

Jim shook his head. We'll just injure him more. Maybe more than he can handle right now, Chas. This cave is stranded in the middle of a forest, and it's at least midnight by now. Assuming we can even find our way out of here in pitch-darkness, the car's out on the road, We'll never make it."

"_We don't have a choice right now!" _

Dammit, he was past the point of yelling. His voice was raw from the emotional turmoil building inside him like a volcano. He ran a hand through his hair, stressed beyond belief.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I wouldn't ask if we-"

"-had any other options, I know." Jim interrupted him, his face set and determined. "Let's get this over with."

He nodded, and stepped forward slowly. John appeared to have calmed down, his eyes weren't jumping back and forth to every started movement. Or maybe that was just his exhaustion finally reaching his limit. Either way, it was good for all of them that he was still now. 

"John, we're taking you back to the car now." he spoke in low, soothing tones, trying to keep his worry at bay.

"We're going to have to carry you, so I need to know if there's anything we should be worried about."

John grimaced, his mouth curling in pain. "My leg. The left one."

Dammit. Chas's eyes found the awkward way John was shielding his broken leg from further pain. It was bent unnaturally, covered in blood and obviously broken. Moving him to the car would be more than difficult, jostling the warlock's leg would just cause him further pain.

But _fuck_, they didn't have any other options. Chas hated it, the sick, twisted feeling of helplessness eating him alive. It was worse than any fight with Rene, worse than the disappointment that clouded his daughter's face every time he left them to go galavanting with John. His wife never comprehended his need to see the world, never understood why he ditched their cozy family for a crazy warlock and his dangerous stunts. And Chas, for the life of him, couldn't bring himself to _make _her understand, and show her how much John meant to him.

It was times like this though, with his friend broken and bleeding in his arms, that he came to realize her point of view. Watching John throw himself repeatedly into danger, while he watched desperately at the sidelines, was slowly breaking him mentally and emotionally. 

And the kind of pain that accompanied that feeling was something even forty extra lives couldn't fix.

__________________________________________________

John's screams rang frightfully loud in Zed's ears. The sound of his agony was heart-breaking, and she wanted to clasp her hands to her ears and run far, far away from everything she'd seen in the last couple of hours.

She desperately tried to think of other distracting thoughts, calming thoughts. The Mill House with its crackling fireplace. Curling up on a couch and sketching peacefully. Running around with Chas and John while doing crazy supernatural shit. Anything to keep her mind off of John's present state.

Her friend was a wreck. Chas only had the chance to pick him up with a quiet apology before picking him up and lifting him up in a bridal carry. He winced at the expected scream that suddenly echoed throughout the cave, as the Warlock's broken leg jostled violently. Chas stilled for a minute, waiting for John to catch his breath, before glancing up at Zed and Jim. 

"We have to go now.", he said, voice filled with determination.

Zed felt a sudden rush of gratitude. Without Chas here, she didn't think any of them could have gotten as far as they did. He was probably the reason John was still alive.

Jim stepped forward and narrowed his eyes as he studied the warlock. John eyelids were fluttering as he fought to stay awake, and his breathing came in slow, harsh motions.

"If we're moving him, we better hurry."

Chas's eyes widened. "What the-"

Horror started to fill her, as she saw blood rapidly staining Chas's shirt and hands. 

"Fuck", she whispered. She glanced up at the pair worriedly. "When he was lying down, the floor of the cave was probably pressing against his wounds and blocking the blood flow. Depending on how long he was stuck here, it's probably the only reason he hasn't bled out already."

She didn't need to look up to know that Chas and Jim's faces mirrored her concern and despair.

She shook her head, clearing the haze that was clouding her judgment. "Chas." she was barely whispering, but his name on her lips echoed throughout the empty cave, vibrating and making her shiver. They needed to get the hell away from here.

Her friends just nodded, resigned. He bent forward, shushing the warlock gently, cradling his limp form. Without looking for confirmation, he started for the cave's exit, moving as fast as possible without hurting John. Lines of pain were etched onto his face, his mouth parting in a silent groan of agony.

The rest of the journey was a blur, Zed lost count of the twists and turns they travelled through, in the cave that was slowly becoming its own sick version of hell. All of Chas's attention was on the warlock, but Jim was clear-headed enough to remember the way to the exit. Their footsteps were rushed and soon became a dull noise, one she barely recognized as the minutes wore on. She shuddered as she realized the blood in her vision had come from Chas carrying John. It didn't matter that she already knew where her friend was, because she knew the worst was yet to come. Hell, they didn't even know how bad off John really was, and all she could think of was that she had left him, just when he'd needed her the most. It was eerily similar to all those months ago in New Orleans. She shivered.

She almost sobbed in relief when they reached the exit. Her feet were barely able to navigate the rocks and tree roots under her, her exhaustion a physical weight dragging her down. They made it out, and she took the driver's seat without a word. Jim helped Chas get John in the car, a strangled groan making its way past the Warlock's chapped lips as he was jostled. Chas sat next to him, holding him securely with one arm. Jim sat in the seat next to her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiled softly, pecked him on the cheek and placed her hands on the wheel.

Dammit, if it wasn't for the smooth leather underneath her palms and the reassuring weight of Jim's hand, none of this would have felt real. They'd been in situations like this more times then she could count, but it never fully registered how dangerous it all was until it was _too fucking late_.

She drove on.

__________________________________________________

Pain.

It dulled his senses, overtaking him completely until he was limp and unresponsive. His muscles screamed at every movement, which didn't make sense, because he couldn't recall getting up. Dimly, he realized he was moving, and instinct kicked in. He could feel someone's hands resting on his arms, and his breath hitched as he tried to stop himself from yelling. He bolted upwards, his eyes wide open while he panicked. His brain screamed at him to assess, to figure out what the hell was going on, but his body wouldn't respond. His eyelids fluttered from his too-bright surroundings, his leg itching with pain. 

"John?"

The voice was familiar, but his scrambled thoughts couldn't place it. For some reason, it brought a wave of comfort, stilling his movements and dulling his fear. He opened his eyes.

Chas's warm blue eyes met his, and for all he knew, nothing at all had changed. It was just a normal day for the two of them, back at the Mill House, getting ready to jump into another crazy hunt for the supernatural oddities they're so addicted to. His hands found the comforting leather seats under his body, knowing instantly he was in the cab, _their _cab_. _Nothing's out of order, it was just him and Chas, in the cab they've spent half their lives in. As his senses returned, small details started to rise out of the haze. He's in the cab, which is moving, and his bag, filled with familiar spells is next to him. He realized Zed was driving, with Jim sitting next to her. With them present, everything at last is in order. 

But as those important details make their way to the front of his mind, others also impatiently crowd for his attention. He could clearly see the tight lines of worry etched across Jim's face, while Zed's fingers beat a senseless tango on the dashboard, as if looking for a way out of their current situation. There was a quiet feel of desperation in the atmosphere of the cab, and he stared up at the familiar face above him, into those blue, blue eyes.

"Chas."

The words were barely there, just a faint whisper in the air. It didn't seem possible that anyone would have heard him, that his plea would be drowned out by the cab's tires on the road. 

But those eyes lit up, beautifully bright in the dark. He tried to say more, but Chas's simple response was to put his fingers to the Warlock's lips. 

"Easy, John." His voice was gentle. "How're you feeling?"

John felt like grinning. He coughed instead, pain racking through his skinny frame. 

"Never better, luv. Where're we headed?"

Chas snorted, and it was so matter-of-fact his heart ached. "We're going to the Mill House. You need to rest up, get your strength back." Those blue eyes faltered for a minute, and the guilt that plagued John so often returned swiftly, like a punch to the gut. The pain in his friend's eyes made him want to curl up and disappear. Chas cleared his throat roughly, and Jim put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You scared us, man. We were worried."

John wanted to scream at them, or break something repeatedly. He couldn't recall what had happened to cause this latest screw-up, but he knew he'd probably fucked something up, if his injuries were anything to go by. 

As if remembering his injuries brought the pain back without warning, he groaned, jerking out of Chas's grip.

"Are there pain meds in here somewhere?" 

He could dimly make out Jim's panicked voice as the muffled sounds of them searching through the cab's glove compartment reached his ears. Chas sweared, and he knew they were going to have to do this the hard way. He would either have to ignore the pain for the rest of their journey, or he might get insanely lucky and the pain would knock him out early on. He gritted his teeth.

He needed to stop forgetting about Zed's resourcefulness, because it was usually her in the end that saved them. Keeping one hand on the wheel tightly, her fingers plunged into her jacket pocket, searching ruthlessly. When they came up empty, she had to stop herself from yelling out loud in frustration. She tried her jeans pocket, this time grinning triumphantly.

She tossed the sealed container to Chas impatiently, and once it was in his palm he couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud.

He suppressed a groan as he raised his head to stare at whatever Chas was grinning at. 

What the actual fuck.

He knew most migraine pills knocked you out, unless they were the non-drowsy kind. It wouldn't help John with his injuries, but they might just be able to keep him unconscious until they reached the Mill House. _Dammit. You can hold out until then, John. _

The more rational part of his brain answered that he didn't really have any other options.

Jim measured out two pills, handing them to the warlock. He gulped them dry, ignoring Chas's groan of disgust. A small smile tugged at his lips at the sound. His breathing turned laboured as his eyes shut slowly, the rhythmic pressure of Chas's fingers carding gently through his hair lulling him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know where this is going right now, I'll probably add another chapter and then an epilogue to wrap things up. Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the awful cliffhanger, I hope you enjoyed! I should have the next chapter up soon, this will probably be a three-shot with an epilogue. Leave comments and kudos :)


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